


Ravished and Ravenous

by livvylaure



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Depressed Louis, Eleanor Calder & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Eleanor Calder is a Beard, F/M, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Hurt Harry Styles, Insecure Louis, Jealous Louis, Liam Payne & Harry Styles Friendship, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship, OT5 Friendship (One Direction), One Direction References, One Direction Tours, Past Gigi Hadid/Zayn Malik, Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Top Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvylaure/pseuds/livvylaure
Summary: Five years since hiatus, a couple of months since rehab, years since true love has disappeared. Louis Tomlinson is living a life he thinks he has figured out. The promise of a reunion hangs in the air, a promise of past love.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Marcel/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hello! This is my first proper piece of fan-fiction that I actually put some thought into the writing of. I would like to preface by saying English is not my native language and I am immensely sorry for any grammatical/structural or spelling errors. I try my best to check through but I don't always catch everything.  
> I hope you enjoy it and TWPK.

Booze, drugs. Booze, drugs. Booze, drugs. Louis’s head was spinning, thousands of different sensations traveling through his body. Blinding, sharp lights flashing before his eyes, screams, and shrieks dispersing through the venue. The bartender gave him a quick, questioning look before returning to preparing a mojito for a guy two stools over. A glass, filled with Blue Lagoon, stood lonely next to a 10-pound note. Louis rubbed his eyes, gave himself a swift, refreshing slap, and leaned forward. He put his head down and pressed down on his nostril with his index finger, dragging his head along the bar, ingesting a line of coke. 

“I am a fucking mess, god fucking damn it.” He slurred, his head slumping down onto the bar, nudging the glass causing the liquid to swirl. His heart rate raising and a familiar yet uneasy heat spreading to his limbs. 

The music roared through the building, it was a new song that Louis either hasn’t heard or doesn’t remember hearing. Either way, it was garbage. 

Louis pushed away from the bar, hopping off the teal, four-legged stool, onto the club floor. He made his way, zigzagging to avoid clubbers, towards the men’s bathroom. His limbs felt restless and he felt he had to get away from the mayhem of London’s finest nightclubs. What seemed like hundreds of people were in his way, some grinding, slut-dropping, or a strange combination of both. There were gays, lesbians, straights, take your pick. He shook his head, shaking off a tipsy girl, adding “I don’t play for your team, love” as he sped up towards the bathroom door. He pushed the door lightly, which was usually enough to open it. 

Yet this time was different. Someone was leaning on the door stopping it from opening and thus stopping Louis from escaping the dancefloor.

He cursed like a sailor under his breath, once again pushing the door, the culprit on the other side sighed and moved away from the door, letting it slip ajar. 

Louis, feeling some kind of a sensory overwhelm, went off on the innocent clubber.

“You absolute fucking wanker, its London, a nightclub, middle of the fucking night. “He started, it was too painful to look at the person because of the even more blinding lights in the bathroom. “If you want to lean against a door go grab a fella or something and go back home.” His chest rising up and down as he became more agitated.

“Louis?” The person spoke, causing him to whip his head up fast despite the sound his neck made. He hissed as a sharp pain traveled through his temple. 

The image became less blurry and Louis made out the features of the person, his face dropped at the sight before him. 

“Harry?”. It’s all he could let out, his throat now, despite burning earlier from the alcohol, felt even more sore and dry than ever. His mouth felt numb and lips hung open. 

It indeed was Harry, the same Harry that he parted ways with almost 5 years ago. When at first the six months became eighteen and eighteen months turned to three years, then to five. Well, the same, voice wise. Yet, appearance-wise, it wasn’t Harry, Harold more like. 

His jaw changed, from being quite defined years prior, to stone-cutter sharp. The hair that once met his shoulders and even further now was over his ears with slick curtains parting it. His mouth was also opened, his pupils dilated; he’s taken something as well. This kind of took Louis by surprise as Harry was never the one for substance abuse. 

He was wearing something a 2012 Harry would only dream of ever wearing; a brown leather jacket was complimenting his tanned skin; it was unzipped exposing his inked over abs and upper chest area. A singular cross-chain dangled from his neck as he towered over Louis. His quite muscular legs were once again graced by a pair of black skinny jeans, bringing Louis's mind back to the good old 19-year-old Harry days.

“I-uh” Harry struggled to speak; his tongue tied into a knot.

“I need to- “Louis spoke up, hating the uncomfortable silence that appeared after the younger one attempted to break the tension. “Need to get to the cubical, Styles”. 

Harry nodded and shuffled to the side, almost tripping over his own, presumably Gucci, leather boots. Louis stumbling towards the cubical door, his legs seeming unresponsive despite him not being a lightweight. He sat down on the closed toilet and sank his head into his hands. His eyes scanned over the tattoos that he once was proud to have and the ones that now reminded him that he wasn’t strong enough.

His interaction, if you can call it that, with his former bandmate -and lover- caused a wave of before repressed feelings to wash over him. Adding to the effects of previously taken drugs and alcohol and causing his stomach to perform a triple axel. 

He finally stood up, relieved himself, and flushed the toilet. Opening up the door and rushing to the sink, not wanting to catch conjunctivitis or some other nasty thing from the club’s toilet handle.

Harry was gone and with him, the heavy tension that hung over the bathroom. Louis flipped the faucet on to the cold side and scrubbed his hands together with force. Trying to get rid of the layer of whatever could have gotten on them. He then splashed some water on his face, eager to freshen up. His head met the rectangular mirror, smashed in a few places, his reflection staring back at him. 

Miserable is what he thought, miserable and pathetic. His cheekbones prominent more than ever. His lips chapped and a few more wrinkles gracing his mouth corners. Eyes sunken, with deep, purple bags underneath them. Hair messed up and a week-or-two old stubble on his always shaven face; that’s how he liked it, but lately it’s been too much effort. 

Louis, finally getting himself together, left through the back door of the club. Giving a courtesy nod to the security guard who knew of him as quite of a regular here. Which was quite depressing, he thought at times. 

A taxi has stopped in front of the club. Groups of drunken Londoners in front of the club’s entrance seemed to pay no mind to him as he pushed past them to catch the taxi which he was grateful for. 

The taxi driver looked at him judgingly, as if to say “Shouldn’t you, of all people, not be taking a taxi in northeast London, alone?”. Louis didn’t care, he had to get home or he’d do something he will regret.

He gave the driver his address, falling back in the car seat like a ragdoll and pulling his seatbelt over. He looked out of the window, only now realizing it was drizzling outside. Something about the sparse raindrops trailing down the window felt peaceful. It was quite an out of place thing to say about the bustling city of London. 

His heart rate calming down, indicating he’s coming off the cocaine high, and he was grateful for it, he was clean for three months before today. A notification came through on his phone that resided in his back pocket and somehow did not meet its demise in the club. Louis ignored it and let his eyes fall closed, his body relaxing into the seat and fists unclenching.

After what felt like a century, the engine fell quiet and the driver coughed and Louis’s eyes fluttered open. 

“We are here, quite a long ride, that will be- “He looked over to the fare calculator and then turned back to Louis. “76.01 pounds, and no, we can’t go cheaper because you’re famous. We got to make a living somehow.” The driver cut in even before Louis intended to say anything.

He rolled his eyes and pulled his wallet out, “I didn’t expect a discount, - “Louis pulled five 20-pound-note. “-Keep the change, goodnight.” He bolted out of the taxi, taking his keys out of his jean pocket and fumbling to get the front door opened. The car engine started back again shortly after and the taxi drove into the night. 

“Eleanor!”. He belted as loud as he could, his throat not being a fan of that, reminded him that it was still sore and dry as the Atacama. 

A light came on in the window nearest to the front door, those clicking and opening after a moment. A slim frame stood with her arms crossed, Lion King dressing gown on and a pair of fluffy socks on her feet.

“What do you call this, Tomlinson?” She sounded mad, and most definitely was, Louis did not doubt that.

“Please let’s not do this now, I need a drink,-“ He tried to push past her, but she did not budge. Instead, she leaned forward and took a deep inhale. Her face forming an expression of realization and shoulders dropping.

“You can’t keep doing this, Lou,” Her voice shaky and gaze piercing Louis’s eyes. 

He nodded in agreement and without exchanging any more words, they went to their separate bedrooms. Clifford welcoming him once he flopped on his bed.

“Hi little man, you missed me eh?” Louis inquired,  
despite knowing he won’t get an answer.  
Clifford, a little sleepy, stepped his spot out before laying down, snuggling into Louis’s side.

Not too long after, Louis followed in Clifford’s footsteps, or pawsteps rather, and fell asleep.

For Louis, the morning came way too fast. Eleanor pushing his bedroom door open with her petite hand carrying a tray in the other. The tray consisted of a glass of water and some pills. Louis needed exactly that right now as he had a pounding headache, and heartache, or something. Never again, I am way too old for this now, he thought. 

“Thank you, EL, and sorry for waking you, if I did.” Louis apologized and took the tray from her. She shrugged her arms, gave him a comforting look, and gathered Clifford for a morning walk. Louis swallowed down the two pills and gulped the water, cold as fuck, he thought to himself.  
He shook his head, taking in the water and appreciating it since all he’s had was hard liquor and cocktails for the last few hours. 

Louis took a look at his bedroom; it’s not in the best state if he’s being honest.

It hasn’t been cleaned in the last three weeks as their maid was away on a family holiday and Louis’s busy schedule not allowing him to be here very often. Especially not with days to spare for cleaning, and he’d never expect Eleanor to clean his mess up. It did reflect his state of mind, that was for sure. 

The carpet that he got out of boredom was full of Clifford’s hair. Black hair which was clashing with the suede shade of the rug. 

He knew he had to vacuum but it was kind of artistic if looked at from a certain angle. The bookshelves full of books he hasn’t read, but they look smart, even if he has no idea what “The theory of utilitarianism” is. The only things that he cleaned were his wardrobe and his desk. 

His wardrobe had taken quite a toll when out of anger he threw out good three-quarters of his clothes. His insecurities taking the better of him and too many irrational thoughts warping his body image. It was an impulse he regretted and the look that Eleanor gave him, a pitying one, will be seared into his mind forever. He then took a quick whiff of himself in general and realized he reeked of alcohol and sweat. He decided he has to take a shower or he might throw up, Louis took his clothes off. Absent-mindedly chucking them into the laundry basket next to his wardrobe. 

Making his way to the en-suite bathroom of his bedroom, he gave one glance to his bed. Something about the way the covers and pillows were messed up stung him in the heart.  
He unlocked his phone, one look to the battery let him know this had to be a very quick shower as his phone has been clinging to the last 15%. Not having been changed in over a day. Louis turned on the radio station and got into the shower, avoiding looking in the mirror. The moment the water met his pale skin, he felt like he hasn’t showered in weeks, months, or even years. Something about him felt dirty and he tried hard to scrub the feeling off. Hot water feeling like whiplashes to his tattooed pecks, trailing down to his thighs, down his knees and calves.

The radio host announced the next song, and Louis’s heart skipped a beat, his head popping out of the shower curtain, death-glaring at his cell phone hoping it will die within the next second. 

“Welcome England! Tune in with us on this fine February morning to some pop classics of January!” The host was overly joyful, way too early, and he didn’t even know what the time was but it’s always too early for positivity. It hit him that it was indeed February, February 1st. Harry’s birthday without Harry was always tough, and Louis would have rather not known it was February 1st today. “Today is the birthday of the one and only Harry Styles, which means the next song coming up is Golden, as he truly is golden!” The other host laughed and the intro to the song began to play. The song filled him with warmth, un-ironically being named Golden. He reached his arm out of the curtain to skip to a different station but stopped at the last moment. 

He retracted his arm back into the shower, resorting to listening to the song, he hasn’t dared to listen to Harry’s new album yet, and it was about time.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden” Harry’s soft yet rough baritone filling the entire bathroom. A slight smile crept his way onto Louis’s face, his former bandmates voice has always been a bit darker than the others and it was a voice to die for. 

“I’m out of my head, and I know that you’re scared” the song went on as Louis finished up in the shower and got out, making sure to not fall face flat on the mat again. “because hearts get broken.” The song came to an end, and Louis could say he loved it, it was one of Harry’s most beautiful vocals in his opinion. 

“…. Aaand that was Mr. Harry Edward Styles with his song ‘Golden’, coming up ne- “Louis drowned the host and the upcoming song out. As the memories from the previous night flashed in, the ones with Harry, specifically. He wished he would have said something more, started a conversation, made up, but realized that a dirty, nightclub toilet wasn’t the best of spaces. Hell knows when the next chance to talk to Harry will be, Louis knew he would not initiate it himself, relying on the universe instead.

It was strange how they stopped talking. They swore to each other when the hiatus became inevitable that they will stay in contact. Yet their both accelerating solo careers got in the way of it, or that’s what Louis liked to think. He picked up a razor and adjusted the mirror so that it faced him, he grabbed some shaving cream and applied it to the left side of his stubble. 

As he does a gentle downward stroke, his thoughts wander to Harry again, as if he hasn’t thought about the guy almost every day since they parted.  
Against his own will, his mind trailed off to the intimate moments they shared, the first touch, kiss, make-out session, and their first time. 

Their first time was something out of a rom-com, Notebook-Esque. Harry took Louis out on his 23rd birthday to the Providence restaurant which to this day remains the best food place, and also the most expensive one, that Louis has ever visited. The scenery was also beautiful; overlooking the city. It was also ridiculously clean considering its situated in L.A. Then they went back to Harry’s house, in a limo, and it was so, so, so, breathtaking. It was unlike anything Louis has ever experienced. 

Everything down from the atmosphere to the actual deed was out of this world. Harry’s vanilla sugar candles made the bedroom smell delicious. The rose petals on the bed and the fluffy carpet were a little out of character for Harry but Louis loved it. Harry himself smelled like sex on legs. To this day Louis has no idea whether Harry doused himself in aphrodisiac for the date or not but it didn’t matter. 

His train of thought went down a much more explicit railway and Louis had to pinch his hand to come back to the real world.  
He had to before his body had any way of responding to the memory. Louis grabbed a towel to dry himself up and he winked at himself in the mirror; he felt much better. 

His phone made a ‘beep’ sound and vibrated, indicating it has finally run out of battery. Louis decided to have mercy and made his way, with a towel around his hips, to his bedroom to plug it in. Eleanor knocked on the door, barking coming from her side.

“Come in,” He said, watching his phone’s screen light up as it turned on, Eleanor entered with mail and two dogs coming in behind her. She passed one of the packages and letters to Louis and sent him a warm smile. She prompted Clifford and Bruce to leave the room as she did so herself, pulling the door closed behind her. She was a good friend and he was glad that she was his PR stunt, not some egocentric C-list celebrity looking for publicity. despite their rocky beginnings, Louis learned he could count on her when it came to anything and he appreciated it. 

He decided it was about time to check his notifications, as he remembered getting a few last nights in the taxi that he dismissed. 

He swiped up to unlock his phone and got immediately flooded with Twitter and Instagram notifications.

When he opened one of them, a meme greeted him, a One Direction meme from one of his favorite fan-twitters, he retweeted it with the caption “Made my day”. He then went to reply to work emails deciding the package and letter can wait.

The usual emails he got on with, it was either a “yes I would love to” or a “thank you for the offer but I have to decline”. One, however, caught his attention, and not for a bad reason. It was a link to an article about a potential One Direction reunion that was somewhat confirmed by Liam and Niall on an Instagram live. He was taken back as he has not heard anything of sorts from their management about a reunion of any kind.

He shut his phone off and decided to take care of the mail, he opened the package that was wrapped in plain, brown wrapping paper. It was a ring box from Graff and he froze, he swallowed a lump in his throat and opened it, hoping it isn’t what he thought it was.


	2. Lying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hello! I am loving the fact that some people have already found my fanfic and I hope that all of you that have read it have enjoyed it, and I once again apologize for grammatical/structural and spelling problems.  
> I want to say that this chapter is not my favorite and I wrote it very late at night last week!  
> Slight trigger warning: smut.  
> Take care and TPWK.

It indeed was what he thought it was, it appeared to be a small, engagement ring, he knew the worst was about to happen. He feared to read the attached note.

He blinked a few times, composing himself and reached for the note, unfolding it a few times. He scanned it, looking for particular words like, “PR”,” Contract”,” Fake” and “engagement”, he did indeed find those. The note read that he had to propose to Eleanor in the next week, in public. 

Anger started to build up inside him, he turned 28 recently and the past decade of his life has been controlled in every single aspect. No matter how intimate and personal. 

Every single day since they got put together as a band was closely managed without any wiggle room to explore their identities or experience life. 

It was so exhausting, but they would be nowhere without the management, which Louis understood but that didn’t stop him from resenting the management.

He ripped up the note and threw the ring box into the small black bin, not caring for its fate, it made a dull noise when it hit the bottom. Louis, realizing he’s still not clothed and the towel, having soaked up his body’s moisture, became damp. Prompting him to get up and put actual articles of clothing on. It was a simple oversized hoodie over a tank top and sweatpants, very like his on-stage outfits as he never felt comfortable enough to go all out. It was one of the aspects that the envied Harry for. He had the confidence to wear whatever he pleased and looked damn good doing it. Louis scoffed and picked his phone back-up, realizing he got a whats-app message.

The “Niall and the Potatoes” group chat was once again active. The name got a chuckle out of Louis as it was a reference to the first proposed name for the band, they refused to even consider it. 

The message read “Flute: Mornin’, Lads”. He pressed on it without thinking, and before he could leave pretending he never saw the message, multiple “…is typing” showed up and his eyes became prickly with tears. The promise of a reunion, or reignited friendships, hanging in the air. 

The chat updated, and now there was a message from “Zaynie” that consisted of a hello and a star-eyed emoji. Then another message popped up, this time from “Payne Train” that was a very Liam-like sentence; “beans, boys, beans”. He hoped, although he would never admit it, that he’d see “Ghost” typing. To no avail, unfortunately, as messages popped up from the other three. Harry not having been active on WhatsApp since 2015. Not that Louis checked. 

They talked, more than they have for the past five years. It felt like a heavy-weight being lifted from Louis’s shoulders. he could gain his brothers back, and that was the best feeling and a light in his life. The exhausting life of a celebrity left him addicted to cocaine and hard liquor. It has been tough since the band split up, but he had to be strong for himself because no one else was there to do so. He managed, somehow, almost over-dosing and having to step away from the lifestyle for a few months. Almost a year.

He shuffled in his bed, finding that his previous position gave him awful back pain, and heard paper crinkling. Louis realizing he still hasn’t opened the letter. He got up, abandoning his phone mid-message. He opened the package, making sure to be careful and not damage the contents. 

A ticket fell out, not a random ticket either, a ticket to Harry’s Valentine Day performance. Louis’s eyes widened in shock, it has been such a long time since they have seen each other, sober. Yet he receives a ticket for Harry’s performance?

He sniffed the ticket, hoping it would smell like Harry, but to his disappointment, it smelled like a stuffy Royal Mail van.

He shook the envelope, expecting a note or something with a smidgen of an explanation but there was nothing. 

He could hear his phone vibrate with every message sent by one of the boys and Louis, as much as he wanted to talk to the boys, he had to go clear his head. Or get drunk, high, or both. 

He stuffed the ticket into his desk drawer and unplugged his phone from the charger. Sending a quick ‘see you later lads’ and stuffed it into his side pocket, a bit of a switch up from the usual back one. He sent a glance to the digital clock that read’ 11:34 am’ and he left his room. Clifford charged at him the moment he grabbed the front door handle and almost knocked him down with his sheer strength.

“It’s alright buddy, I’ll be home soon,” The corners of Louis’s mouth quivered; Clifford was his greatest joy. Eleanor looked up from the magazine she was reading, stopping the music from her MacBook. 

“Where are you going?” She questioned, with no ill-intent, only sheer worry. 

“I won’t get high,” Louis said, lie. “Or drunk,” lie. “Or both.” He sent her a forced smile, these days his smiles never quite reached his eyes. 

She did not look like she believed him, it’s not the first time Louis ended up like this, and she knows it’s not the last. Instead of arguing, she sighed and pointed at the keys that must’ve fallen out of Louis’s pocket yesterday. Resting on the dining table. Taking a sip of her drink, she resumed her song and focused back on her magazine.

Louis felt bad, but she couldn’t look inside his head, and he was never good with words. Only music, which was words, but yet it felt distant from actually speaking. He could never put into speech what is going on in his mind and doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to. No matter how many therapy sessions.

He grabbed his set of keys and proceeded to call an uber this time, waited a couple of minutes for it to arrive. It was an Audi A6 which was pricey, but worth it for the look itself. He pondered on where he wanted to go, and at last, decided when his uber driver tapped his wristwatch. 

“Watford, Watford Colosseum, please.” He said at last and leaned back in the seat, he adjusted it so it fit his posture and opened the window a little. They drove in silence, with the only noise being Louis’s phone going off. He presumed it was the group chat but didn’t have the guts to check in case Harry was active.

The half-an-hour drive passed rather quickly; the driver turned to him as they arrived in front of the Watford Colosseum. Louis already had the notes ready to pay the fare, he thanked the driver and left the uber. He found himself at the place where it all took off, One Directions’ first-ever venue, of their first tour. Despite it being a small capacity place, they didn’t sell out, which seemed rather ridiculous considering they sold out the MetLife Stadium a few years down the road.

He looked at the building, few things have changed since 2011, and he was glad, it helped him remember the happiness and true bliss they felt when they finished their first setlist. He grinned to himself, realizing he must look very strange, observing the building. 

Louis wanted to be stronger than this, to soak in the aura of the place, then call the uber back, go back home. To Eleanor, dogs, his bed. To attempt to lead a semi-normal life. Yet he knew that’s not how it will end up tonight, instead, he walked down to the downtown bar that they went to after the show finished. It was quite packed for midday and Louis, for the first time didn’t mind a packed bar. 

The lights were dim and brought on a feeling of summer, despite it being the middle of winter. 

The tables and booths haven’t changed, perhaps having gotten refreshed a little over the past years. There was a huge dancefloor with a few people going in on it to ‘Strip That Down’ and he couldn’t blame them.

He sat down at the bar, giving a friendly nod to the bartender who scrunched his forehead and gave him a questioning look. His face then softened as he recognized Louis. 

“The man himself, Louis Tomlinson, back to his roots,” He laughed and shook his head, taking Louis into an embrace over the bar counter. He couldn’t help but appreciate the short-lasting human affection. 

“Good to see you too, Marcel,” Louis took his hoodie off, revealing a white tank top underneath. Marcel’s eyes wandered down, before almost instantly, coming back up to look at Louis’s face.

Louis couldn’t help but admit that Marcel grew out to be a handsome fella. The last time he saw him he was as old as Harry is, helping his dad out with the bar. He also looked like Harry, which didn’t factor into anything. Louis, before his brain, processed the words, blurted out. “When do you get off your shift?”. 

They spent the rest of the day talking, catching up, flirting, sending cheesy lines back and forth, and generally having banter with each other. The conversation flowed and it felt like closure to Louis. He didn’t know whether it was because Marcel looked like Harry or… well, he wasn’t sure what else. Marcel only occasionally stopped talking to Louis to make a drink for a customer who was either drinking their sorrows. To which Louis could relate to or trying to impress a girl. 

At three-pm sharp, Marcel indicated Louis to follow him, into the men’s bathroom. He felt like a teenager who was about to snog his class-mate in the school lavatories. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins and he wasn’t the one to overthink a quick fuck. 

The moment they entered through the door, now without a person leaning on it and blocking it, Louis thought, Marcel pushed him up against the tiled wall. 

They exchanged a passionate kiss; it was rough and fast. How Louis liked it. Marcel’s hand traveled into his hair and pulled him closer, earning a moan out of Louis who very much enjoyed it. His hands rested on Marcel’s ass, pulling him in closer, causing friction between their crotches and they both could feel each other getting hard. It was the most physical contact Louis has had since 2016 and he wasn’t going to let it go, even if it was in the back of a bar in some gross bathrooms.

“Fuck, Louis, only if I knew you were so eager for it, I could have found you earlier,” Marcel whispered into his ear, his voice gravelly and dripping with desire. Louis’ tensed up at the words as all the blood rushed down to his crotch and he couldn’t help but start rocking his hips against Marcels.

Marcel put a hand on his hips, indicating him to stop. “Take your pants off.” He ordered.

Louis complied. Without hesitation he untied his sweatpants and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs, exposing his erect penis. Marcel licked his lips and turned him around. Louis wasn’t usually the bottom but he could do an exception. This once. He, out of nowhere, remembered that Harry always used to bottom and that’s how Louis liked it. Ever since the tour bus.

He heard Marcel unbuckle his dressing pants which were a part of his bartender uniform, they dropped down and the belt made a clunking sound as it met the hard floor. 

“You want to be prepared or..?” Marcel questioned, making sure Louis is comfortable and not in pain.

He couldn’t care less, he wanted to drown out the emotional pain. “Go in, dry,” He managed to whisper, his voice hoarse.

“Ooh fuck, I could get off to you saying that,” Marcel moaned in his ear, as he directed his penis to Louis’s entrance. The latter moaned with impatience and backed his ass on Marcel’s penis. “Patience is a virtue, Lou.” After a few seconds, Louis could feel that Marcel has gone in, it was painful as fuck. Way different than my first time with Harry, he thought. 

He whined and a few tears trailed down his face. Marcel stopped. “Lou, you okay?” He inquired. Louis nodded and asked him to go faster, meanwhile he put his hand on his dick and started jerking off in motion with Marcel’s thrusts. It wasn’t as painful now but he could feel like he was being ripped apart, and not the good kind of feeling ripped apart.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis moaned before he realized what he said, Marcel stopped and picked his boxers, along with his pants back up.

“I knew it, the night I saw you two in this very bathroom.” He laughed, shaking his head and with his hand on his forehead. “I should have known you would never be available. Go get Harry, it’s the least you could do.” Marcel shrugged and left, leaving Louis vulnerable in the bathroom. Louis’s mind and body aching.

Fucking fuck, stupid fucking Harry Styles, gosh fucking darn you, ruining my moment and you aren’t even here! Louis’s thoughts went rampant, he put his boxers and sweatpants back on, tying them on his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a lovely day!


	3. Smiling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I hope you're having an amazing day.  
> For the handful of you that are reading this story, sorry for no chapter for the past three days. School got in the way :)
> 
> Love yourself and TPWK.

Louis shot out of the bar, not giving Marcel a second look, his cheeks burning with shame.  
The next few hours were uneventful, Louis went back home, knowing this afternoon could not get any worse. He met shocked Eleanor as she opened the door.  
“It’s nearing five o’clock, you aren’t supposed to be home for the next eleven hours.” She joked, El seemed relieved that he returned so early, and only a tiny bit tipsy. She pulled him into a hug. “Please get yourself together, Lou, if not for me do it for your sisters.” She began to pat his shoulder and stood on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “I love you, Lou, please don’t go back to how you were.”  
“I love you too El, thank you for always being here. “He answered shortly, feeling moistness in the corners of his eyes. “What would you do, if, hypothetically, you haven’t spoken to your ex in 5 years, aaaand you met him in a bar at three-am, drunk and on coke.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Hypothetically, yeah?”.  
She furrowed her eyebrows and crossed her arms on her chest, looking unimpressed.  
“When did ‘hypothetical’-“She did the quotation marks in the air. “become ‘Eleanor so this and this happened what do I do to get out of this mess.” His eyes widened, she never pried into his life and Louis shot her offer of help down before; knowing she would tell him to contact Harry.  
“Okay, fuck, so-“ Louis took a deep breath, fiddling with his fingers in the pocket of his hoodie. “I saw Harry, in the nightclub, the first time we’ve seen each other since, y’know, or interacted for that matter.” He explained, getting the words out rapidly, wanting to get Harry out of his head.  
Her eyes scanned Louis’s face, she had a knowing look and he knew that whatever she’ll say next will be meaningful.  
“Romantic,” Eleanor chuckled, earning a playful push from Louis. Not meaningful, a voice in his head said.  
“Call him, Lou, or message him. Send him a carrier pigeon.” She shrugged and turned around to head to the kitchen, back to whatever she was doing before Louis arrived home.  
He sighed, gave her retreating back a look, and pushed the door to his bedroom. His phone had connected to his home’s Wi-Fi, starting to go off like crazy, indicating the group chat was as alive as ever. Despite his strong desire to not check it and instead focus on something that would take his mind off Harry. He had a weak will and in a matter of seconds was catching up on a few hours of missed messages. Most of them being silly chitchat until Louis reached a message that made his heart drop in shock and jaw to tense up. ‘Ghost: We should catch up,’ Followed by a beer emoji. Everyone in the chat seemed to think that’s a fantastic idea and the further Louis scrolled, the more he realized that seeing Harry is something he couldn’t avoid forever. Plus, it was a chance, like he hoped in the shower earlier.  
He realized he got mentioned in the chat when he was inactive, ‘Payne Train: Lou, is February 10th good for you?” Good question, Liam, is it.  
Louis wondered for a second, weighing the pros and cons of meeting up with the boys. On one hand, deeply wanting to reignite their friendships but on the other wanting to avoid hurtful memories. Then, he decided, he couldn’t feel sad for himself his entire life. His life was his to live.  
‘Me: It is. Where?’ A few moments later, Liam popped up with an answer. He suggested they go to the first bar they ever went to. That moment Louis regretted replying to this damn conversation. That wasn’t somewhere he wanted to return; out of embarrassment mainly. Everyone unanimously agreed with Liam’s suggestion and he didn’t want to be the odd one out. ‘Ghost: See you February 10th, Lads.’ Harry replied, going offline moments later.  
God, Louis, you are such an idiot. A voice came from the back of his head, desperate to shut it out he put on some music, Harry’s music, to be specific. The upbeat intro to Watermelon Sugar played; Louis has heard it on the radio plenty of times before yet it still felt new.  
He fell asleep before he knew it, his eyelids heavy, body in pain. Precisely one part of his body. He kicked his sweatpants off prior and snuggled up in the covers. It was still quite early, it was six o’clock, but pitch dark out.  
The next few days were full of Louis’s mood swings and a desperate need to drown his sadness in alcohol. From which stopping him was the thought of his little sisters. Who already saw him at his worst when he went to rehab and he didn’t want to spiral out of control again. Eleanor tried to comfort but Louis refused for her to get anywhere close to him. Instead deciding to spend his days in the balcony, strumming his guitar mindlessly and walking Clifford out for prolonged periods.  
The weather wasn’t his friend but he couldn’t care less, the escapades with Clifford felt freeing and he hasn’t felt freedom in a very, very, long time.  
Eleanor could only watch as Louis grew more and more irritable day by day, leading up to the day he was supposed to go meet with the others.  
His replies were short and robotic, he slept in much longer due to pulling late nights. During those nights, muffled cries came from Louis’s bedroom as Harry’s album played on repeat. Eleanor wanted nothing but to go to his room and talk about his issues, but she knew Louis. He’d dismiss whatever she would say and refuse to open up.  
The morning of February 10th came along faster than Louis would have liked. He felt worn out and the last thing he wanted to do is be social, but he knew he couldn’t drop out as his heart ached to see the boys again. He rolled out of bed, his phone falling on the floor with a thud. Louis cursed under his breath and picked it up, making his way to the bathroom straight away. Seeing as he had an hour till the get-together according to his phone.  
The air in the bathroom felt refreshing, he leaned over the sink and turned the faucet on, a stream of water shot out splashing him in the process. He slammed his fist into the tile wall to his right and immediately regretted it as a sharp pain traveled through his knuckles.  
“Stupid piece of shit,” He murmured, grabbing toothpaste with his other hand and already knowing the one in pain will bruise in a few hours. The toothpaste met the toothbrush and Louis spent about 15 minutes getting ready, putting hair-gel in his hair and, with urgency, concealing his under eyes. He was self-conscious about them, about everything really, but what can you do. He can’t alter his appearance with a snap of his fingers and he wished he could; he wanted to look like a real heart-throb.  
His phone started to buzz, Louis rolled his eyes and looked down at it. The display showed 'Syco Management'; they have been trying to reach him since the proposal deadline wasn't met. Louis hasn't even told Eleanor about anything, pinning his hopes up that she doesn't find out. He decided to decline the call and swiped left to reject. He found out that the way he dealt with problems lately was by ignoring them, it barely worked but he had no other option. It’s either ignoring or getting tied up even further with Eleanor.  
A notification came through from WhatsApp, Louis begging it was from anyone but Harry, and as always, the world wasn’t quite on his side. ‘Ghost: I am glad you agreed to the catchup, Louis’ this simple message caused Louis's stomach to twist into a knot and all the self-control he had, left.  
His already hurting hand, shot towards the crystal-clear mirror, shattering it into pieces, he was furious. Enraged, even, Harry had no right barging into his life like that when he almost figured it all out. He wanted him to go away and with him all the misery he has caused Louis. Tears tinkled on the surface of his eyes but he blinked them away. A look towards his hand assured him that he wasn’t bleeding and with that, he took his phone and shut the faucet off before leaving.  
A raincoat was grabbed along with his wallet from the bedroom and he walked out into the hallway. Seeing that Eleanor was sitting on the carpeted floor by her bedroom door, petting Bruce.  
“I am going, to see the boys.” He let Eleanor know and slammed the door behind him without a second thought or hearing what Eleanor had to say.  
The weather outside was very February combined with England like; dark clouds hovered in the sky and it was pouring down rain. Louis felt today will be a good day, because it couldn’t get much worse than his past few days have been.  
He called an uber again, the same one like last time in the Audi A6 pulled into the driveway, the driver smiling at Louis.  
“Watford again?” He inquired, Louis nodded and got into the car. The seats comfortable as ever and the interior filled with a strong vanilla sugar smell. His nostrils reached a state of Nirvana as he adjusted his seatbelt.  
“Nice smell, good stuff.” He said, his voice trembling more than he would have liked for it to, to the driver, the dip in pitch didn’t go unnoticed.  
“Don’t start crying, I don’t have any tissues,” The driver responded. “It’s Harry Styles’ new perfume fragrance, or cologne, not sure of the difference.” He shrugged off-handedly. After that, a silence fell and Louis counted down minutes until they got to Watford Colosseum.  
When the destination was finally reached, Louis thanked the driver, getting a slight deja-vu as he handed him the money owed for the fare and left the car. The brisk air of Watford cooled his face, he appreciated it as the car interior was a little stuffy.  
He pulled out his phone, seeing he had less than five minutes to get to the bar he started walking a little bit faster, trying to avoid pedestrians. Those seemed to give him strange looks as he shoulder barged his way past them. Some calling him out and some snorted, rolling their eyes but Louis did not care in the slightest; he just wanted to get to the bar.  
After a couple of minutes of speed-walking, he found himself in front of the bar door, all the doubts and hesitation hitting him like a lightning.  
His hand hovered over the door handle and he so wanted to pull away and go back home, forget this ever happened, and drink his sorrows.  
Louis instead decided to push the door, the bell ringed alarmingly bringing the attention of the bartender to him.  
Marcel's eyes scanned him, a weak smile appeared on his face and he nodded towards an out of sight for Louis booth, knowing that that’s where the boys were.  
The bar wasn’t packed, it was quite desolate for a Monday afternoon, but he didn’t let himself wonder about that for too long as his legs carried him towards the booth that Marcel hinted at.   
It was located at the far back of the bar, no doubt to not have unnecessary interruptions from the bar-goers.  
The moment he reached the booth, he knew that he was glad to have come. This felt like the first time they properly met at Simon’s house.  
He sat down at the free seat next to Liam, there was already food on the table, meaning the boys had to have gotten here much earlier than he has.  
“Hello,” He said with hesitation, the years of limited contact have severed their relationships a little and he wasn’t sure what to say. It was much easier over text.  
“Louis! Long time no see eh?” Niall boomed; his Irish accent less prominent than it used to be.  
Harry gave him a curious look but didn’t say anything.  
“Yeah, I suppose,” Louis admitted, feeling at fault for not staying in contact despite promising each other to do so.  
“Nice to see you all, I truly, madly, deeply, missed you all,” Harry joked, earning a collective chuckle from everyone.  
“Shut it, Styles,” Liam said as he wiped his mouth from the water that was dripping down. This felt good, this was how it was supposed to be every day. Louis smiled, this time his smile reaching the corners of his eyes.  
“How have you guys been, then?” Niall asked, stirring his iced coffee with the straw, Harry looked to his side for a minute before speaking.  
“Good, my album got platinum and I have been nominated for a Brit, life couldn’t be better.” His smile was so wide, that his dimples could be visible from space. “My tour ends on the 14th,” Harry looked over to Louis quickly, so quickly it was almost unnoticeable. “then I am moving homes.”  
That caught Louis’s attention. To his limited knowledge, Harry resided in LA and he had a house there with a mansion in North Hampstead, where could he be moving to now?  
“Oh? Where to Hazza? Is your mansion not big enough?” Niall jested, knowing he has two mansions and constantly moves around himself.  
“The potato has spoken,” Zayn gasped dramatically, receiving a death stare from Niall.  
Louis couldn’t help but laugh, his lads will always remain kids at heart despite nearing their thirties.  
“Yeah, sold the North Hampstead one, found something chateau-Esque in Hertfordshire. Beautiful, relatively cheap,” Harry explained, seeming excited as his eyes sparkled a little.  
Hertfordshire? Louis thought, for god’s sake.  
“Lou, you okay? Lookin’ like you’ve seen a ghost,” Liam asked, staring at Louis with intensity.  
“No yeah, perfectly okay.” He said, voice shaky as he thought about Harry potentially being his neighbor.  
“Well, how are you then Louis?” Niall turned towards him.  
“As good as I could be, writing my new album, -“ he stopped to think, what was he up to these days except moping around the house. Eating out their entire pantry and being a Debbie Downer. “Living day to day, y’know, clubbing-“Louis swallowed, glancing at Harry.”- all that stuff.”  
Niall nodded eagerly, Zayn’s eyes lighting up at the word ‘clubbing’. “Clubbing eh? Never took you for the type Tomlinson, is that why you disappeared for like a good part of the year?” Zayn joked, his face scrunching up. Louis glanced at him, about to explode but then remembering no one knew why he disappeared for as long as he did. Except for Eleanor and his family, of course.  
“Yep, had to make time for boys.” Louis winked, chuckling to himself. He wished his mind was occupied with something or someone, else than Harry, but he couldn’t kid himself. Harry was too important to him.  
“Ooh! Well, look at you. William, snogging men in clubs!” Liam exclaimed, giggling away in his corner of the booth.  
Niall followed in Liam’s’ footsteps, his laugh as annoying and obnoxious as ever. Louis grins to himself, enjoying the fact that nothing between them has changed, well between him and everyone but Harry.  
The latter didn’t look impressed by Louis's implied whoring around being the reason for him not engaging with the celebrity lifestyle last year.  
“Did you use your status to get guys or…?” Harry asked, immediately creating a tense atmosphere around the table. Boys ceasing their laughter and Zayn, out of awkwardness, adjusting his hair too many times.  
“What?” Louis said in disbelief, he couldn’t believe his former bandmate thought of him like that as if he’d ever use his status as a ticket to get into someone’s pants.  
“You heard me.” Harry shrugged, looking down at his milkshake.  
“Of course not, Harry, you out of everyone should know best that I am not that kind of person.” Louis snapped back, exhausted from Harry’s attitude already.  
An uncomfortable silence fell amongst the group, none of them daring to say anything. Louis looking down at his fingers, contorting them, trying to focus on anything but Harry’s out of order question. Niall leaned back into the booth seat, peering between Harry and Louis, expecting a brawl to break out. Liam seemed to be interested in the brown wall opposite them and was staring at it with passion. Harry looked guilty for asking that question, fiddling with his rings. Zayn, however, didn’t want the silence to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a wonderful day, sweetheart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for getting to the end! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am going to be trying out different writing styles on the way.


End file.
